My withdrawal was gradual and unplanned. First, a drop onto
the only tiled 6-square feet in my home destroyed my iPhone's clean
look. Then mysterious crashes, like a Steve Jobs tech debut gone
wrong, made it annoyingly unreliable. Finally, it needed to be shut
down and restarted to change functions, like from "email" to
"phone" or "text".

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Its disappearance led me to drop it altogether.

As with many big moves -- and a breakup with your fave gadget
qualifies in 2013 -- it had been a long time coming.

Ever since seeing Mike Daisey's "The Agony and Ecstasy of Steve
Jobs" I had been wracked by guilt that my adorable cell was built
with child labor, grueling hours, union busting, video surveillance
and suicide nets (the spirits and bodies of Chinese workers were
definitely harmed in its making). Yet I grasped it tighter,
mumbling platitudes, "one person can't change "", "shining the
light will help "". However New York Times articles that
echoed many of Daisey's revelations, plus Apple's evasion of billions in taxes, brought
fresh pangs of guilt.
My iPhone's absence has transformed my life for the better, if
challenging family and friends who expect instant access.

I live more in the moment.

Very soon after I lost my iBuddy, I walked through Georgetown.
Instead of jamming to music up Wisconsin Avenue, I looked carefully
around a local market. Sarah Bean provided my best conversation
that month. The poet and artist -- who had coincidentally been Mike
Daisey's drama student in high school -- spoke of her wonderful art
and the brilliant monologist's trials post-"Agony". Her
collage "We Are All Just Walking Eachother Home" now adorns my
bedroom.

I model better behavior. Many books recommend parents dissuade
their children from rapid-fire texting (128 per day by teens) by
putting down their own devices.

"But what kind of Mom doesn't have a cell phone?" I am often
asked. For me, a better one. Let's not forget the wired
computer I'm usually by, my landline phones, and answering machine
provide greater accessibility than my childhood home. And
exchanging frantic texts when my daughter or I are just minutes
late can erode hard-won independence through a 21st
century umbilical cord. In fact, there's value in thinking tasks:
after navigating to the beach with a paper atlas instead of an
iPhone, my kid told me, "This map thing is cool, Mommy."

Egypt's Facebook revolution demonstrates technology's power for
good. And the posts of smart, if uncredentialed, people have
improved war policies, election outcomes, and nonprofit
strategies.

Yet major misconceptions about climate change and the debt ceiling
show that cell phones have been far from a panacea for
misinformation. Our citizens may parrot talking points but
they often lack in-depth understanding of today's complex
issues.

I'm the last to decry all technology, including yours right now.
European Union Commissioner Kristalina Georgieva's brilliant talk
on "The Humanitarian Crisis in Syria"
was streamed to my computer Friday, allowing me to avoid the dismal
rain. Facebook allows me to post political links and the web
accelerates my research exponentially. Yet I too often struggle to
account for hours spent online.

Cell phone tech also reflects terms many of us don't agree to
(uncheck) including overzealous government surveillance and the
donation of our money by Yelp, Facebook, and Google to the American
Legislative Exchange Council (the organization behind "Stand Your
Ground" laws and anti-minority, anti-women bills) and by telecom companies to the Republican "shut down
the world economy" Party.

Why are we so wired for wireless tech?

Bosses require their realtors, traders, and consultants respond as
quickly as if they're delivering babies. Long answers and immediate
call backs are often expected when workers are awake (though they
are rarely explicitly compensated for a potential doubling of their
work day). Seldom on the agenda: how "greater productivity"
compromises time spent on kids, hobbies, personal lives, and
reading while exhausting workers through a near-constant dopamine
buzz.

Even at a personal level, it's de rigeur. Yet interactions are
often not enriched. At a cousins' lunch, four 30-somethings whipped
out their phones to ascertain the age of National Spelling Bee
competitors (thus also verifying our Asian identity). Whatever.
Later, N's text query for a good local bar received four lengthy
responses from across the nation in a sub-5 minute time. Yet my old
fave Busboys and Poets delivered happiness with a pitcher of
after-hours sangria, a tribute to N's in-person charm and
beauty.

Greater accessibility can accommodate real crises. But so too can
it make fake ones. Without a cell phone an angry stepmom's
drive off with the carseat (and without the baby) when one's
teenager needs to be dropped somewhere can't change one's mission
from finding the best Bloody Mary in DC to providing short-notice
chauffeur service.

Sadly, the cell-phone-free sometimes struggle in this wireless
world. Yet when did we, as a society, agree individual ($60-plus
monthly) mobile phones are necessary? They're now needed for basic
functions: I parked four miles from the 50th anniversary
of the March on Washington because available streets required calls
to park. Should our city be less accessible to those without cell
phones? When major initiatives across the US promote car- and
bike-sharing for cheaper and more sustainable living, should pay
phones disappear?

Because mobile access is expected, I borrow shamelessly,
particularly on vacation. I loaned my cousin's for most of a
weekend in NYC, borrowed a stranger's to arrange for the right US
Open ticket, and begged a fabulous employee at Islip Airport to
help me arrange for my kid to fly alone after I was involuntarily
bumped.

I also rarely records events, which is less of a sacrifice. Few
exchanges sound like: "That was an awesome concert moment when we
were stage-side for Toby Lightman's encore of "Angels and Devils'.
Not the song, T and C, when we TOOK THE VIDEO" (though I proudly
shot their toddlers' first concert experience).

I also try to recall a lesson of lateness. My friend L's habitual
sashays to group gatherings 45 minutes late in a gorgeous neutral
palette reminded us MicroStrategists of the things worth waiting
for.

Joy and meaning, for many of us, often reflects the intensity of
experience, not the frequency. Quality often trumps quantity. So
greater focus can help one read better and deeper, stress less,
connect more, protest more, inspire more "

My cell-phone free life may not last forever, but the way I look at
technology has permanently changed. As should yours.